


Sleeping Alone

by nemvous



Series: Just Shout [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, John trying to be a dad, John wants what they have, Short & Sweet, he isnt willing to put in the work, until Jo gives him a talking to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22546543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nemvous/pseuds/nemvous
Summary: Inspired by the idea that user boomer1125 and I talked about!I suck at summaries but have a short and sweet fic about Jo and Arthur's relationship from John's point of view! John wants what they have, but Jack is young and so is he, and he's trying his best(not really but we can pretend.) This fic is mostly exploring Jo and Arthur, but with some added John/Abigail! I'm not a huge fan of their relationship dynamic, but it was fun to explore regardless.A stand-alone fic for the longer series Ebb and Flow. You don't have to read it to understand this, but this gives some more insight on aspects of their relationship that we don't really get to see much!
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Just Shout [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1427320
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Sleeping Alone

John wanted what they had. 

He wanted what they had, without all the work and the arguing and the fighting. Josephine and Arthur’s relationship seemed flawless. Easy. His own relationship with Abigail, well…

Arthur seemed to know how to handle his woman. Whenever Josephine came storming in, red in the face and positively  _ pissed, _ Arthur could steer her away and come back with her an hour later with a significantly calmer woman. If she was sad or upset, they’d disappear into their tent and it’d be hours before anyone saw them. What they got up to, John didn’t rightly know, but he knew Arthur was good at it, whatever it was. 

Maybe it was time that had drawn them so close. 

Years together living as companions knitted their relationship tightly. Arthur knew Jo, and Jo knew Arthur. Arthur has been like that with John at one point, long ago, but ever since Jack had come along, things were different. 

John’s eyes strayed over to where Arthur and Josephine sat next to each other. It looked like Josephine was telling a story, while Arthur was using his hunting knife to cut up an apple. Josephine paused to take a bite of the slice offered to her, then continued to talk. Arthur wasn’t looking at her but he was smiling. One of those easy smiles that told the world he was content. Arthur spoke, and whatever he said earned him a jab in the ribs and a laugh from Josephine that carried all the way to John’s ears. 

“John! Are you even listenin’ to me?” Abigail asked, her tone high and annoyed. 

“I—” They’d been talking about the boy. Yes, Jack. “You were talkin’ about Jack, and his…” 

“He’s bored, John.” The anger melted away a little when she realized maybe he was listening. He hadn’t been, but luck seemed to be on his side today. “Will you do somethin’ with him? Play with him or take him to the river or, or somethin’.” 

“Well, what the hell would I do with him? We don’t got much in common, Abigail.” 

“He’s three years old, for chrissakes. I don’t got much in common with him neither, but at least he can say he’s got a momma.” 

The woman turned and walked away before John could say anything and he sighed. It was hard maintaining anything with Abigail. If he followed her, she’d surely prickle up like a cactus and give him the cold shoulder. He was so tired. He wanted her to warm his bed like she used to, but if he suggested it, he knew she’d slap him in the face and call him a pig. 

Arthur had it good. John never saw them arguing as he and Abigail did, never saw Arthur having to struggle to calm her down or explain himself. He probably didn’t even have to ask Josephine to put out for him. They didn’t even have to talk to each other to maintain their relationship. It was easy, it  _ looked _ effortless and all fulfilling. 

Maybe John should find another woman. After all, John knew he wasn’t the only one Abigail put out for. He didn’t even know if Jack was his. Abigail was infuriating, maybe he just needed someone else. 

At one point, John had wanted Josephine. 

She was older than him, pretty, strong. He had fancied her for years and had watched her and Arthur dance around each other like wild horses until she left. He’d been seventeen at the time, still blushing bright red when she spoke to him or even breathed within ten feet of him. He’d peeped in on her tent on more than one occasion, only got caught once, and to this day he still felt an ache in his ear where she nearly twisted it clean off. 

When she left, he remembered how angry Arthur had been. His whole demeanor changed. The older man had always been brutal, always been quiet and observant and often underestimated. But after she left, it was as if stone encased Arthur, and it wasn’t chipped away until Josephine’s return. 

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts again, and he turned his head to Dutch. The man shook him slightly, and John flicked his eyes back to Josephine and Arthur. 

“What’s the matter with them?” John asked. Nothing was the answer. Nothing was wrong with them ever, it seemed. Any of their arguments were resolved, he never saw them fighting, never saw Arthur sleeping outside because Josephine kicked him out. John looked away from them and looked at Dutch. There was a hint of something in his eyes. Something dark, built of contempt and jealousy and maybe even a little resentment. 

“If you believe in true love, son, they have it.” 

True love. Maybe that was it. He heard working girls talking about it, tittering amongst each other as if it was some big secret they all wanted. 

“What they have is hard to find, and once you have it, you never want to let it go.” There was a twinge of something in Dutch’s voice, something barely there but painful nonetheless. 

Dutch turned away before John could answer, and John sighed softly. He looked around, caught sight of the boy playing with sticks by himself, and the sight of him unearthed a deep discomfort in himself. He wasn’t good with kids, didn’t know how to connect. When Jack babbled nonsense to Abigail, she knew exactly what he wanted. When he babbled nonsense around John, John heard nonsense. 

John headed in the opposite direction of the boy and settled in at the scout's campfire. The silence here was bliss—away from the hustle and bustle of camp, and Abigail’s annoying, nagging voice. He sat down on one of the logs and poked at the fire, glancing around to find something to entertain himself with. There was a pile of half-finished arrows, and a small box of fishing lures, neither of which John knew how to make. 

Well, at least it was peaceful. 

“John Marston.” Great. John looked towards the voice drawing closer, and he straightened up a bit when he found it was Josephine who was stalking towards him. 

“What?” 

“Don’t you what me,” she sounded annoyed, and for some reason, her voice wasn’t nearly as grating as Abigail’s was. “Get down there and do somethin’ with your son. Abigail is in  _ tears _ because she’s so frustrated with you.”

“How’s that my problem? I don’t even know if that kid's mine. He could be Javier’s or Bill’s, hell, maybe even Dutch’s kid. Why’s it my responsibility?” Josephine sat down on the log adjacent to him and sighed. 

“Because she loves you. It don’t matter if it’s the Queen of England’s kid. She loves you, and she wants you to be the one helpin’ to raise him. But you’re doing a piss poor job.” 

“She don’t act like it.” The thought made him feel odd. “Like she loves me. She’s always slappin’ me and yellin’ and walkin’ away.” 

“She’s got a strange way of showin’ it, but she does. I don’t rightly see why,” Josephine teased and nudged his boot with her own. “But she does. You think it’s always rainbows and daisies with me ‘n Arthur?” 

John lifted one of his eyebrows and looked at her. “You mean to tell me it ain’t?” 

“Of course not!” She snorted. “Arthur gets on every last bit of my nerves, and I’m sure he’d tell you the same about me. Last night, for example, I was tryin’ to sleep and he was breathing so loud right in my ear I wanted to strangle him. I told him to quit it, and he said ‘what, breathin’?’ All sassy like, and I very nearly kicked him out.” 

It was hard to picture, but it made John smile a little. He was glad he wasn’t the only one. Abby’s breathing when they used to share a tent had set John’s nerves on fire. 

“We ain’t perfect. We argue about the stupidest things you can ever imagine. But we know that shit don’t really matter, and we forgive each other. Because at the end of the day, even if Arthur breathes loud right in my ear, neither of us like sleepin’ apart. Neither of us like goin’ to bed angry at each other.” John watched her, and it was as if he was seeing her in a new light. He hadn’t thought about it. About the arguments they must get into. He didn’t really realize that they were real people, like him and Abigail. 

“You always look so happy though.” 

“Because he’s my best friend, and I love him.” The admission felt strange to hear. “It’s because we talk. We talk about everything. I know what sets him off and makes him upset, and the same goes for him about me. And before you even  _ think _ about it, I don’t put out for him every night. If you must know, he’s usually the one puttin’ out for me.” She grinned, and John grinned back. “But that ain’t the only reason we’re happy. Though, it could be.” 

John snorted, and Josephine began to laugh too. She nudged his leg with her knee and shook her head. She looked pretty when she smiled, and her smile was easy. Carefree. Just like Arthur’s. John realized Arthur was a very lucky man, and rather than be jealous, a swell of happiness warmed his chest. Even if Arthur was cold with him now, he was glad Arthur had what he had. 

“It’s a give and take between Arthur ‘n me. Arthur doesn’t always know what is upsetting me, so I tell him, and we work it out. The same goes for him. To your young manly ears,” Josephine lowered her voice comically and laughed. “That might sound girlish and pointless, but all of that falls away when you love someone and you want to be with them. Abigail has been givin’ and givin’ and givin’, and you’re always takin’. Surprise her. Give her somethin’ she can take too. She loves you, and you don’t want to give up somethin’ like that.” 

“But what do I give her?” John asked as Josephine stood up. He looked up at her, and she shrugged. 

“I don’t know. Somethin’ she’d like. Only you know what she’d like.” She patted his cheek, then turned away and made her way back towards camp. John followed her with his eyes, watching her walk past where Arthur walked with sacks of feed in his arms. They didn’t say anything to each other, didn’t pause or spare each other a glance. 

John wanted that. He wanted that simplicity, the ease of a love that didn’t force him to constantly talk and be close. John knew he wasn’t an affectionate man—he didn’t want to be. But… 

His eyes strayed away from Josephine and towards Abigail. His woman sat near her tent darning a sock furiously. From this distance, he couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but she did look mad. John looked at Jack, who sat a few feet away from her, still playing merrily with those sticks. 

John pressed his lips together and stood up. He made his way down the short hill and into the heart of the camp, where noise surrounded him. He continued on, walking past Abigail and towards the little boy who may or may not be his. 

“Hey,” John greeted, and the boy looked up at him. “What… whatcha playing there?” Jack answered in his unrecognizable vernacular and it took John a moment to understand what he said. “Pick up sticks?” Jack nodded furiously, and even in the discomfort he felt, John settled down on his knees next to him. “Mind if I play with ya?” 

Jack shook his head and giggled merrily, throwing his sticks down on the ground to make a new game. When John glanced back at Abigail, she was looking at him with her mouth slightly opened. The sock she had been darning so furiously was held forgotten in her hands before her shock wore off and she smiled. Her smile was pretty—it wasn’t carefree like Josephine’s, but maybe one day it would be. 

John smiled back at her, just a little bit, and he realized something. 

He was tired of sleeping alone, even if Abigail breathed in his ear real loud. 

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I pumped this out at about 7 in the morning, and it was so much fun to write. It's short and sweet, and I'm excited that I was finally able to write for them again. I hope you enjoyed! <3


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